


Night Visitor

by Toad1



Series: A Horse With No Name [15]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Desert, Gen, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4950604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toad1/pseuds/Toad1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Party Poison and Kobra Kid deliver supplies to Killjoys living in the far outreaches of Zone Two, it's not long before they discover that not everyone is friendly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Visitor

The sun beat against the back of Party Poison’s neck as he trudged down the highway. Dry grasses brushed against the road like bristles. He took a swig from his water bottle, then wiped his forehead. Sweat rolled down his face. At last a gas station appeared on the horizon, the sign wavering in the steamy, hazy air. Poison stepped inside and dropped the gas can on the counter, taking off his boot and rubbing his blistered foot as he waited for the cashier to show up.  
  
Finally she stepped out of the back room with a box tucked under her arm. She dropped the box on the table and started cutting through the tape. “Good morning,” she said. “Did your car break down, hon?”  
  
“Someone stole our gasoline last night,” Poison said. “My brother got in the car, turned the key, and--nothing. At first we thought it was the engine, but we checked everything, it was working fine. Then we checked the gas tank, and--empty.”  
  
She winced. “That’s terrible,” she said. “Just give me a minute here. Do you want some candy? Free of charge, since you’re buying so much gas.”  
  
She nodded toward a box of cactus candy on the counter. Poison thanked her and took a piece. He bit off half, stashing the rest in his pocket. It was sweet and fruity like prickly pear juice.  
  
When he returned to the camp, Kobra Kid was leaning against the Trans Am with his arms folded. Everything had been packed away except the remnants of their campfire, a blackened pile of ashes circled by rocks. Sunlight glinted off the trailer.  
  
“Hey!” Kobra said. “How’d it go?”  
  
Poison raised the can. “I got the fuel,” he said. He reached in his pocket and handed Kobra the piece of candy. Then he started pouring the gas into the car, the gas making _glug-glug_ sounds as it slapped against the bottom of the tank.  
  
“Thanks, man,” Kobra said. “I think we better hit the one in the Quiet Valley first. Get a lot of the perishables out of the way.”  
  
“Yeah,” Poison said. “I don’t think that wax is going to last much longer.”  
  
He tipped the last of the gas into the tank, then screwed on the lid. As Kobra started the engine, Poison sank into the passenger’s seat. He slipped off his boots and winced as he rubbed his sore, blistered feet.  
  
“We better siphon out the gas before we go to bed tonight,” Kobra said. “I’ve still got those plastic tubes from when we were looking for water.”  
  
Poison looked up, then nodded. Uneasiness flitted in his stomach. He imagined the thief snaking a tube into the gas tank, only a few feet away from their tent. If they had turned around, they could have been met with gunfire.  
  
Kobra glanced over at him. “Man, we’re going to have to get you some foot cream,” he said.  
  
Poison laughed a little. He grabbed a pumice rock from the glove compartment and started rubbing it against the cracked skin. They bumped and shifted in their seats as Kobra pulled out onto the highway, the trailer rattling behind them.  
  
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a shack nestled against a shrub-dotted hill. Goats drank from a water bucket, their tongues making ripples in the water. A woman stepped out on the porch. She shielded her eyes, then hurried up to the wire fence that surrounded her house. One of the goats followed behind her.  
  
“ _Hola!_ ” Luciana shouted. “ _Hola! Son ustedes los repartidores?_ ”  
  
 The brothers exchanged glances. Poison stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he shouted. “We don’t speak Spanish. _No hablo español._ ”  
  
“Oh!” she said. “I’m so sorry. Excuse me. Are you the delivery boys?”  
  
“We are,” Poison said. “Did you order from Tommy Chow Mein earlier this month?”  
  
“I did, yes. Come in, come in!” She unlocked the fence and gestured for them to come inside. The goat snagged the hem of her shirt and started chewing on it like a leaf. She hissed something in Spanish, and it drew back.  
  
The brothers hauled her order into the kitchen: two sacks of rice, one sack of cornmeal, a bucket, matchbooks, needles, fabric scraps, yarn, and a brick of wax. The clay floors were cool against Poison’s feet. Luciana disappeared into a back room and returned with two-rolled up quilts tucked under her arm. Poison thanked her and took them from her.  
  
“Be careful with those,” she said. “I know they don’t seem like much, but people will steal just about anything.”  
  
“Absolutely,” Kobra said.  
  
They drove to a distant town with blue glass pendants hanging from the porches. Poison carried a box of supplies into a schoolhouse, the air thick with the sound of a piano and children’s off-key singing. The teacher nodded toward the bookcase, not stopping for a moment. They drove until the highway crumbled into sand and the tires cut through worn tracks in the dirt. Shacks with aluminum roofs, fenced-in ranches, and ancient outposts stood miles apart, silent except for clucking chickens and clinking wind chimes.  
  
When the trailer was finally empty, the sky was growing dark. Kobra parked under a Joshua tree that cast a long shadow on the sand. They set up the tent, built a fire, and cooked dinner. The sun hovered over the mountains, glowing red before disappearing entirely. Finally, Poison snaked the plastic tube into the gas tank. He sucked on the other end, then quickly dropped it into the gas can. Gasoline flowed through the tube like liquid through an IV, clattering against the bottom of the can.  
  
“I’ll keep an eye on the car tonight,” Kobra said. “Don’t think we’ll run into the same people, but just to be safe.”  
  
“You want me to take first watch?” Poison said.  
  
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Kobra said.  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be able to get to sleep right away. My mind’s racing.”  
  
Poison nodded, then fiddled with the tube. The last dregs of gasoline dripped into the can. Kobra dug a hole at the base of the tree and buried the gas can inside. Then he turned to Poison, leaning against the shovel.  
  
“I’ll see you at midnight?” Kobra said.  
  
Poison nodded and patted his arm. “Goodnight, kiddo,” he said.  
  
“‘Night, man.”  
  
Poison crawled into the tent and felt around in the darkness for his backpack. He slipped off his boots and jeans, pulled on a sweater and a pair of woolen pants, and climbed into his sleeping bag. A night chill had already settled inside the tent. He shifted in the bag, sighed, and closed his eyes. Insects sung outside like the steady hum of a refrigerator. The fire glowed orange through the tent walls, crackling and popping outside.  
  
Poison turned on his side, then rolled over on his back. He rubbed his eyes in the darkness. His nerves were set on edge, waiting for whispered voices, a shadow over the tent, grass crunching underfoot. How long had the thief watched them? Did they strike when both brothers were inside the tent, or did they move when they were turned to the fire, a mere few yards away? Poison lay still and watched the fire crackle outside. Kobra’s familiar footsteps paced around the camp.  
  
_You’re not going to help him by staying awake all night,_ Poison thought. He felt around for his ray gun, then lay back and closed his eyes. The insects sang shrilly like a lullaby. Exhaustion started to seep into his bones, and within a few minutes, he drifted off into sleep.  
  
\---  
  
Poison lurched out of bed with a start. He felt around blindly in the dark, his heart pounding, then stumbled to the entrance and zipped it open. He staggered out into the camp and frantically looked around. Kobra stood with his back to the fire, looking out at the mountains in the distance. He turned around, then jumped and hurried over to Poison.  
  
“Hey!” he said. “What’s wrong? What is it?”  
  
Poison’s eyes darted around the camp. The tent was empty. The car sat under the tree. The fire flickered like a lantern. Nothing stirred in the trees and grasses that surrounded them.  
  
“Hey,” Kobra said, grabbing his shoulders. “Poison. Look at me. What happened? Did you hear something?”  
  
Kobra’s eyes were wide, reflecting the firelight. Poison’s shoulders sank. He released his tight grip on his gun. He rubbed a hand across his face, the panic draining away like leaking water. A vague image flitted through his mind, a smoky wisp of a dream.  
  
“What?” Kobra said. “What is it?”  
  
“It’s nothing,” Poison said.  
  
“What? It’s nothing?”  
  
“Yeah. I think I, uh--I had a dream somebody was coming, and I got up and bolted out of the tent.”  
  
“You had a dream,” Kobra said.  
  
Poison pushed his sweaty hair back. “Yeah,” he said. “A dream.”  
  
“You didn’t hear anything?” Kobra said. “You’re sure?”  
  
“Yeah. I’m sure.”  
  
Kobra nodded and rubbed his arm. “All right,” he said. “Come on and stand by the fire for a few minutes. Get some fresh air.”  
  
Poison stood next to him, and they gazed at the fire. Twigs blackened and crumbled in the white-hot center. When the flames started to die down, Kobra grabbed a handful of twigs from the pile and tossed them into the fire. The dry leaves curled and blackened like roasting vegetable peels. An acrid stench of smoke wafted from the flames.  
  
“You okay?” Kobra said. “You look a little better.”  
  
“Yeah,” Poison said quietly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
“You’re not as pale,” Kobra said. “You were white as a sheet when you came out here.”  
  
Poison nodded and wrapped his arms around himself. The chill seemed to permeate through the sweater like water through a sponge.  
  
“I think I’m going to stay up the rest of the night,” Poison said.  
  
“You can’t stay up all night, you’ll pass out,” Kobra said.  
  
“I’ll be fine,” Poison said. “I’ll sleep in the car when we hit the road. I just, uh...I don’t think I can sleep with you out here alone.”  
  
Kobra looked at him. “I’ll be fine, man,” he said. “We’re fine. Nobody knows we’re here.”  
  
“That’s what we thought last night,” Poison said. “We’re not safe anywhere, Kid. You know that.”  
  
Kobra was silent for a moment. Then he patted his arm. “All right,” he said. “If you’re staying up, I’m going to make some coffee.”  
  
He headed back to the tent, then returned with a pot and a packet of instant coffee. Kobra poured water in the mixture and heated it until it boiled. They drank cups of coffee around the fire, the drink warming their insides. They took turns scanning the camp for threats. Occasionally one of them searched the area with a flashlight. Poison tried the radio, but couldn’t find a signal. The brothers talked quietly around the fire until the sky lightened from black to deep blue to grey, and the sun crept over the mountains, glinting in the dew that had collected in the grasses.


End file.
